Winter's Hold
by ChocolatyMoonLight
Summary: 3E 433: The daughter of a wealthy family is kidnapped under mysterious circumstances. Seventeen years later, dragons begin returning from the grave, and a young farm girl is discovered to be the Dragonborn. Amidst sinister plots, love and lies, magic and warfare, a heroine shall rise to bring peace to the land of Skyrim, and vanquish the evil that plagues it.


**AN:** Hello, dear readers. This is the first chapter of my Skyrim fanfic. I'm really excited to be working on this fic, I've been planning it for a long time, but I'd never really gotten around to actually writing it until now. It's going to switch back and forth between POVs and timelines, so I'll try to clarify with each chapter who's who. Some characters in this fic may have the same names as characters in the game. However, they are not those same characters, unless specified otherwise. I hope you all enjoy, leave a review and let me know!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing

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She hurt. That much she was aware of. Her bones ached, like someone had smashed them with a warhammer then tried to paste the pieces back together, her stomach curdled from starvation, and the shackles around her wrists and ankles had rubbed the skin raw and bloody. In addition, she was feverish from her wounds, flitting in and out of consciousness rapidly. She spent her time shivering violently and sweating at the same time. Sometimes she heard voices or saw figures swimming in and out of her vision above her, but she never knew if they were reality or just a result of her fever. The only constant was the creaking wheels of the wagon and the constant cold, a brittle, bone-breaking cold.

"Get 'er out, the chief wants ta see 'er," came a distant male voice, and suddenly she felt her body being heaved from the wagon and onto her feet.

She stumbled clumsily, dimly aware of murky shapes standing before her against a background of pale grey. Someone grabbed her by her shoulders and jerked her to her feet, then roughly guided her through what look like an opening in a mountainside. She was engulfed in darkness, but she could still feel the hands of whoever was gripping her, and together they fumbled through the darkness, until she saw a light up ahead. She wasn't sure how long it was before she was shoved to her knees in front of a dark figure silhouetted by the light of a torch.

_"Are you sure you have everything you need?" her father intoned, eyeing the caravan warily._

_She nodded, rising up on her toes and kissing him on the cheek. "Of course, father."_

_"I'm not sure if this is a good idea," he continued. "What if there's a bandit raid?"_

_"Bjorn is a veteran of the Imperial army, he'll protect me," she said, the wind whipping her blonde hair against her cheeks. "Besides, I've got my own dagger, and the roads we're travelling are perfectly safe. I'll be back before you know it."_

_Her father's face grew thin and hard with concentration, wrinkles forming on his brown and around his mouth. "Alright. But be careful."_

_"You know that I will," she said with a resolute wrinkle of her nose._

"This is her?" came a gravelly female voice.

"It is," replied someone behind her.

"She looks half-dead," said the voice. "I'm pretty sure that I clarified that I didn't want her harmed."

"She was a bit of trouble along the way," said another voice. "Now where's our gold?"

"You won't get it quite yet," the woman said sternly. "Did you make sure you weren't followed?"

"Covered our tracks completely, ma'am," said the first man.

"Good," the woman said. "Now it's time we covered ours."

A few confused gasps rang through the room, then she heard the sound of knives slashing against skin and arrows being fired, followed by the simultaneous dropping of several bodies to the floor. Had she not been so sluggish from her fever, she might have been worried, but she was too far gone to care, even when she felt someone grab her by her chin and force her to look up.

She blinked, and for a few seconds the haze that clouded her eyes slipped away, and she caught sight of an Aldmeri woman, her thin lips set in a stern scowl and her amber eyes glinting with determination. Then the woman shoved her to the ground, a powerful bang echoing through her skull as she hit the hard floor. Tears, hot and stinging with salt, trickled down her cheeks chafed and bloody from the bitter cold.

"See to her injuries, then feed her and bathe her," said the woman. "Treat her gently. We need her in good condit-"

Suddenly there was the thrum of an arrow being shot, then the women gasped before she heard the sound of her body hitting the ground. Shouts rang through the room, but they were quickly silenced by what sounded like more arrows. Then there was the sharp clang of steel meeting steel, followed by the sickening sound of a sword through the belly.

Now she was scared. She shut her eyes, preparing herself for her imminent demise, trying to remember her prayers to Mara, to Akatosh, to Stendarr, hoping against hope that her desperate cries would reach them and grant her entrance to Sovngarde, when all of a sudden she found herself being carried by two strong arms. Her head lolled helplessly, pain wracking the bones of her neck, and she blinked sleepily as they approached the opening of the cave.

Suddenly she was on the ground again, but this time her descent was not rough and uncouth, but gentle. Her savior laid her down softly, then brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

"You're going to be alright," came a male voice. "You're safe now."

That was the last thing she heard before everything went black.


End file.
